Page 18 of A Sense of Fate
‘Well then. Goodness, is that the time?’ Violet blinked when the clock struck the half-hour. ‘It will be getting dark soon, so I should be on my way.’ She gathered up her possessions. ‘Will you be able to spend the day at Beranger Court in two weeks’ time? Mrs Keller will be ready to do fittings at that point.’
‘I will look forward to it,’ Flora replied, standing to embrace Violet. ‘It has been a pleasure seeing you today. Please send everyone at Beranger Court—and your godmother too—my very best wishes.’
‘I shall certainly do so.’
Left alone again, Flora took a moment to examine her feelings. It concerned her that Violet had picked up on the indefinable something that had drawn her and Luke to each other despite their differences, or perhaps because of them. Was she envious? Did she wish that she could change places with Violet? In some respects she did, but it never would have worked. She and Luke would never have agreed about her psychic abilities and it would have driven a rift between them.
She stood at the far window and looked out into her gardens. The sleet was coming down again and she watched Will as he took armfuls of hay into the stalls to feed her horses.
Her own horses!
It still sometimes felt like a dream, and the realisation of what she had achieved chased away the remnants of her regrets. She could only afford to live as she did thanks to Archie’s generous insistence upon discounting the rent, making her a kept woman of sorts, she sometimes amused herself by thinking. Nonetheless, the cottage was her castle and she was inordinately proud of herself for resisting fierce parental opposition and achieving her modest and comfortable independence. Fox Hollow was a fraction of the size of Beranger Court and certainly much smaller than Felsham Hall, but it represented a level of freedom that few single women could aspire to, much less find sufficient courage to embrace.
Flora was her own mistress, Archie’s generosity notwithstanding, and unlike the majority of women her age she had no desire to improve her circumstances through matrimony. Her father, whatever his game was, had met his match, and no one would snatch away from her what she had worked so hard to achieve.
There were plenty of duties awaiting Archie’s attention upon his return to Felsham Hall following his week with Luke. They were responsibilities that a steward could easily have undertaken, but since Archie’s mobility was so severely impaired that it was impossible for him to inspect the whole of his vast estate for himself, he preferred to keep a close eye on the accounts as well as the reports and recommendations prepared for him by his steward and keepers. It made him feel as though he was in control, after a fashion, and less likely to be swindled.
Having written copious instructions regarding the following year’s crop rotations, he cast his pen aside and sat back, watching the sleet pattering steadily against the window glass. A year previously, unable to sit astride a horse, he hadn’t been able to supervise anything outside of the house, depending upon the loyalty of his steward to ensure that he wasn’t being robbed blind. All that had changed when Flora suggested the acquisition of a lightweight gig. Archie now drove Merlin, a plodding cob, harnessed to that lowly form of transportation and was able to supervise at least some of his estate. He revelled in the small amount of independence Merlin afforded him.
‘I just received word that cove Conrad’s been hanging around the Stag in Lyneham,’ Pawson said without preamble as he entered the library. ‘He called on Miss Latimer for ten minutes yesterday.’
‘The devil he did!’ Archie scowled. ‘I warned her about him and she shouldn’t have received him alone.’
‘Polly told me she kept her in the room.’
‘Even so, leopards don’t change their spots.’
‘What’s he done to offend you?’
‘He was a cheat at Oxford and my predecessor for Magda’s favours. He was out of his depth on so many levels.’
Pawson pursed his lips. ‘Should have let him keep her.’
Archie sent his friend a jaundiced look. ‘Hindsight is damned annoying and not particularly helpful.’
‘Right, sorry.’ Pawson looked anything but as he leaned his backside against the sofa. ‘I assume he resents you.’
Archie nodded. ‘We had words before I got involved with Magda. He was desperate to be accepted by our set and tried to buy his way in.’
‘Money?’ Pawson slowly shook his head, grinning. ‘The cad! Him not being a gentleman like…’
‘We weren’t that selective,’ Archie replied. ‘Plenty of our friends were from the middle classes. But there was something about Conrad. He presumed upon the slightest acquaintance and always tried that little bit too hard. He name-dropped, putting people’s backs up.’
‘That sort of thing was not done, I take it.’
‘Bad form,’ Archie agreed. ‘Any aspiring gentleman worth his salt would have known it. Anyway, he used his father’s money to buy himself out of trouble, including paying others to write his essays for him. He outright accused me of dropping a word in the right ear when he was hauled over the coals for it. It wasn’t me as it happens, but when Magda gave him the heave-ho in my favour, the battle lines were well and truly drawn.’
‘There’s nothing he can do to damage you.’
‘You wouldn’t think so,’ Archie agreed, rubbing his lips pensively with the side of his index finger. ‘But even so, his sudden appearance in the area has me worried. The man is arrogant, has a massive chip on his shoulder and doesn’t enjoy being gainsaid. Now he’s sniffing around Flora’s petticoats, and that at least has to be stopped.’
‘Something to do with his connection to her father, I assume?’
‘Possibly. What have you found out in that respect?’
‘Nothing yet. I have people making enquiries. Give it time.’
‘Right.’
